Eila wanted to tell Lukas about what had happened with Leonard, but every time the words touched the tip of her tongue, her throat closed up. The thought of voicing it aloud—of admitting what had transpired—felt too raw, too awkward. So she swallowed it down and decided to let it pass for now.
Her holiday from infirmary duty had finally arrived. Just yesterday she had submitted her resignation, knowing that college would begin in a week. There was still so much to prepare, and her nerves fluttered with both anticipation and dread.
That morning, Lukas was waiting for her in front of her house. A sleek carriage stood ready, its horses steaming in the cold breath of winter. She climbed inside and blinked when she saw Zois already there. The brothers were seated together on one side, leaving the opposite bench for her. She chose it without comment, tucking her cloak tighter around herself.
"Did you have breakfast?" Lukas asked, his steel-grey eyes studying her carefully.
"Yes," she replied, with a small nod. "Bread, butter, and milk. I'm full."
She tilted her head, curious. "What about you two?"
"Only the usual breakfast," Zois said with a shrug. Lukas gave the same answer, and the subject was closed just like that.
Eila blinked at them, incredulous. Only the usual? The vague dismissal left her both curious and faintly annoyed, but she decided not to press them. If they didn't want to share, she wouldn't pry. Turning her gaze out the window, she watched frost-tipped trees and rolling hills blur past.
But her curiosity would not stay buried for long. Finally, she turned back to them. "Have you ever felt… the heat cycle? Since awakening your wolves?"
The twins stopped their low conversation about pack politics and stared at her as though she had sprouted horns. Their expressions were identical mixtures of surprise and disbelief.
"No. Never," they said together, in perfect unison.
Her brows furrowed. "Why not? Isn't it… normal? For unmated wolves?"
Their laughter filled the carriage—low, rich, and teasing. Zois leaned forward, his smirk both wicked and amused. "Have you really never heard of the tea? The one produced by Blackwell Industries?"
She shook her head quickly, a little embarrassed.
He raised a brow. "Interesting. That tea is brewed to suppress the effects of heat cycles. If taken regularly, it keeps the wolf's urges under control. That's how we manage. That's how Leonard has managed… all these years. How else do you think he practiced celibacy without losing his mind?"
Eila's lips parted in surprise. She had never once heard her parents mention such a thing. Perhaps they had, in whispers she was not meant to overhear. Still, the revelation stunned her.
But then—her thoughts darkened. If Leonard always drank that tea… then why had that morning happened? Why had the suppression failed?
Her mind spun in circles, chasing possibilities that left her unsettled.
The twins had already turned back to their own conversation, trading comments about the expansion of Blackwell Industries, while she remained quiet. Their cold detachment made her chest tighten, but Sera's voice flickered in her head with soft reproach. You're overthinking. Stop reading shadows where none exist.
Five long hours later, the carriage rolled into the hilly terrain of the Rosebud River Pack. The journey had been slow, the early bite of winter making the roads slick and treacherous.
At the checkpoint, Eila gratefully stepped down from the carriage, stretching her arms and legs. The cold air rushed her lungs, crisp and sharp. They paused to drink some water before deciding to cross the great Rosebud River Bridge and take lunch in the town square.
The pack lands opened before her like something from a painting. Rolling hills blanketed with pines, the gleam of the river catching the pale winter sun, and villagers with warm, simple smiles. Their friendliness was immediate and disarming.
As they passed through the cobbled road, an older woman struggling with a cart caught Eila's attention. Without hesitation, Eila hurried forward to help guide the cart across a rocky stretch. The woman beamed at her and pressed a small basket of tangerines into her hands, insisting they were from her own garden.
Eila accepted them with a soft laugh, her heart warmed by the simple gesture. She returned to the carriage, the citrus scent sweet in her hands.
The twins, watching her quietly, shared a glance and then smiled at her glow. But rather than speak to her, they returned to their talk about industry growth, leaving Eila with her thoughts—her smile lingering, but her heart still caught in the tangled knots of secrets she dared not share.